


and pink is a noun

by hallowgirl



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Agatha Can Be A Tomboy, Bi-Curiosity, Bisexuality, Coming-Out Story, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, From friends to lovers, Gender Roles, Gender-Related, Les Yay, Love Epiphany, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9827210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: "My gingerbread girls aren't wearing pink to reinforce different gender roles" Agatha says, giving one an affectionate pat, as though its' feelings might have been hurt. "They're just wearing pink because they like it. It's a noun, not a slogan."Penny rolls her eyes, because she couldn't expect Agatha to get it, which is a little cruel but a little true, and anyway, they've got more important things to worry about, and if Agatha wants to scribble all over her gingerbread girls with centuries of oppression, then she's welcome to it.In which Penny gets some new ideas about heteronormativity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Literally came about one morning when I couldn't sleep and was thinking about that moment with Penny and Agatha icing the gingerbread girls, and the idea that being a girlie girl isn't an affront to feminism. Leave a comment if you like it!

_"Oh, Agatha, honestly, do the gingerbread girls have to be wearing pink?"_

_"I like pink."_

* * *

 

 

Agatha ices the gingerbread girls carefully, her hands wrapped around the tube as though she's been doing this every day of her life. Penny rolls her eyes and makes a grab for the blue.

"Here. I'm making a stand against heteronormativity, thank you very much."

Agatha just stares at her for a moment, and Penny's about to explain what the word means-a common function of being Penny-when Agatha's face suddenly clears, and instead, she simply tilts her head to one side to stare at Penny a little more.

"Pink isn't heteronormative" she says, to Penny's surprise. "Pink's just a noun."

Penny rolls her eyes. "It's a colour, that is typically _associated_ with femininity. The age-old idea that girls have to wear pink and boys have to wear blue reinforces the idea that we can slot them into different gender-"

"My gingerbread girls aren't wearing pink to reinforce different gender roles" Agatha says, giving one an affectionate pat, as though its' feelings might have been hurt. "They're just wearing pink because they like it. It's a noun, not a slogan."

Penny rolls her eyes, because she couldn't expect Agatha to get it, which is a little cruel but a little true, and anyway, they've got more important things to worry about, and if Agatha wants to scribble all over her gingerbread girls with centuries of oppression, then she's welcome to it.

* * *

 

Years later, when she visits Agatha in California, the pink is the first thing she notices-pink glitter, smeared on her nails, and this time, it makes her smile a little.

She doesn't mention it-they've both got too much to catch up on, with Simon and Baz, and how Micah's taking the break-up, and Agatha showing her round, with a spring in her step that she never really had back at Watford.

Penny never really noticed it back then, but here Agatha's bouncier. Looser. Even her hair seems to shine brighter. Normal life hangs well on her, fits her, like she's just stepped out of a dress that was too tight.

The glitter of her nails just makes it sparkle a little more, and Penny's eyes go back to them a couple of times, and Agatha's eyes roam to Penny's own stubbornly unvarnished ones, and when Agatha offers to paint hers', Penny's about to roll her eyes and ask if Agatha hasn't learned anything, when she takes in Agatha's eyes, wide and blue and the small smile at her mouth, that smile that just looks happy, and not as if Agatha's practiced it over and over again in her mirror, and something about that's different.

She looks happy, so Penny swallows her words and says sure.

She chooses blue, of course; she's not quite at the stage of smearing pink glitter over her own nails, yet, and they sit on Agatha's bed together, Penny cross-legged, Agatha's legs folded together across the duvet, long and delicate, while she paints Penny's nails with the utmost concentration, eyes narrowed as she perfects each stroke. Their hands lie next to each other, blue and pink glittering wetly at the end of each finger, almost touching.

* * *

 

Agatha's in a pink helmet when she grabs the reins of Penny's horse and yanks them tight, before Penny can go flying into the air and probably knock herself out, and knowing her luck, smash her throat onto the ground and wreck her magic, too.

Penny remembers Simon telling her that Agatha was always riding horses at her parents' parties and events and that whole world that Penny's mother still hates so much she's already filing this part of the trip away under Things Never To Be Spoken About Again, and so it shouldn't have been as much of a shock when Agatha just slid into the saddle like she belonged there, tugged at the reins gently, and just grinned at Penny over her shoulder in a way she never had before.

Penny would like to think that's why she didn't notice that her own horse was about to bolt, but she's prepared to accept, if only to herself, that that might be an erroneous conclusion.

But what she does notice is the thundering of hooves shaking the ground, even as her heart pounds out of control-the glitter of pink as long fingers wrap themselves firmly around the reins, and Agatha's voice, sharp and loud, utterly confident, as if expecting to be obeyed.

(Hell, _Penny_ would obey her.)

And the horse stops, and Penny slumps forward between its' ears, not quite crying, but breathing hard, heart throwing itself against her ribs like she's trying to escape, and it's Agatha's hand that's circling her back, firm and gentle all at once, and her voice in Penny's ear saying "Hey. Penny. Penny. You're all right. You're all right. It's me."

* * *

 

Agatha's wearing a pink nightie the next day when she screams bloody murder and throws herself up onto a chair and when Penny's done nearly having a heart attack, she looks down to see what must honestly be the world's tiniest spider crawling across the floor.

Any other time, she'd have looked at Agatha standing on a chair screaming, arms wrapped around her nightie, and have burst out laughing, or rolled her eyes, but this is the day after Agatha grabbed those reins and Penny's no idiot and certainly not an ungrateful idiot.

She scoops the spider up in her hands-OK, she can't resist a _little_ roll of the eyes at the way Agatha clutches the back of the chair dramatically at the sight, as if she's about to swoon-and deposits it safely out of the window, and when she gets back to the chair, saying "Danger removed, Wellbelove" Agatha asks, apparently seriously, "You're sure it's safe to get down?"

Penny nearly rolls her eyes again, but then she looks up at Agatha's big blue eyes, peering through loose strands of blonde hair, and remembers those big blue eyes yesterday, careful and fierce and glittering, as she helped Penny down off her horse, arm firmly around her back, pink nails sparkling.

"Yeah, it's safe, Wellbelove" she says, and when Agatha doesn't move "Come here, I'll catch you."

She doesn't, literally-Penny might be strong, but she's no vampire-but Agatha takes the hand Penny somewhat clumsily offers her and then half-falls into her, warm and unexpectedly solid and Penny's face ends up in her hair, so she's breathing in soap and strawberry shampoo, and Agatha nestles against her for a few seconds longer than she needs to.

Agatha looks pretty good in pink, Penny notices.

* * *

 

"Sometimes I wonder about her." It's early evening, and they can hear the crashing of the waves in the distance, the twilight just creeping across the end of Agatha's bed. They're lying side by side, hands brushing, pink and blue almost entwined.

"It's weird" Penny says, staring up at the ceiling, but feeling Agatha's gaze on her face. "That she's this whole...other person that could be like you and you're in the same place but you've never even met."

"Well." Agatha's fingers slide in and out of one another. They creep up to trap her blonde hair in between them. "Not necessarily in the same place. But yes."

There's a silence and then "I'm not sure I'd want to find her, either."

Penny turns to stare at her, because wasn't this the whole point of the conversation, and Agatha rolls her eyes when she catches the look. "Yeah, I know you'd have tracked her down and shoved a microphone under her nose, but it's just-I don't think she wants that, really. I don't think she wants anything from Watford. I think she just wants....normal." Agatha's voice trails away quietly, wistfully.

"But _why?"_ Penny's voice bursts out before she can stop it, the way it did all those years ago in her kitchen on Christmas Eve watching Agatha ice those stupid gingerbread girls, because God, they could be so much more, _Agatha_ could be so much more...

"You're talented. You could have been..."

Her voice trails off because Agatha's watching her quietly, head pillowed on one arm in the twilight. Some Taylor Swift song's playing in the background, and the duvet's pink and soft and Agatha-ish, and Penny wants to point out how cliched it all is, but-

"I could have been" Agatha says, with a shrug. "But I didn't want to be."

Penny swallows, because how could she _not want_ , and then Agatha catches her hand.

Penny's breath catches but Agatha just keeps talking, fingers circling as if she doesn't even know they're doing it. "She could have been, too, I suppose. But we didn't want to be. We just wanted normal." Her eyes find Penny's. "Even if that's not what we're supposed to want."

Penny takes a breath, because how could Agatha not want to fight to change things, not think about all the injustices there are every minute of the day and remind herself of all she's going to do about it, not want to-

"You want us to be able to choose" Agatha says suddenly, and Penny nods, because of course, but-

Agatha shrugs, the tiniest smile lighting the corner of her mouth a little. "This is what I choose" she says, and Penny opens her mouth and closes it again.

"Don't you get scared?" she asks, after several moments where Agatha has stared up at the ceiling and Penny's heart has beat a little too fast and that stupid Taylor Swift song playing from iTunes doesn't sound like such a stupid Taylor Swift song anymore, and actually sounds strangely nice.

Agatha laughs a little, then, and then says "Terrified. Just-" And she shrugs. "Not as terrified as I was of staying."

Penny lies here for a few moments, considering this, before she turns over to face Agatha again and says "So you came out here."

"Yep."

"To nowhere you knew."

"Yep."

"With no one you knew."

"Yep."

Penny considers and then says, her hand catching a few strands of Agatha's hair without noticing, "That's actually pretty impressive."

Agatha doesn't nod-she just raises an eyebrow and it's only then that Penny notices their fingers are still curled together, pink and blue glittering together.

* * *

 

Agatha's wearing a pink bangle and her pink nail varnish and she's just smeared on some raspberry pink lip gloss which Penny had kept sneaking little glances at as they lay on the porch, because it glistened in the early evening sunlight, when Agatha kisses her for the first time.

Penny doesn't know she's going to do it, and neither, she thinks, does Agatha. They're just looking at each other, and then they're looking at each other for too long, and then Agatha's leaning in and kissing her slowly, a little uncertainly but not shyly. Somehow, Penny knows not shyly.

Agatha's lips are soft and pink and her mouth tastes of raspberries and her hands cup Penny's face, fingers long and gentle and strong and a little surer and Penny realises then that she's kissing her back, and that Agatha's taking the lead without either of them realising.

* * *

 

It's Agatha who pulls Penny on top of her when they're tangled up in the sheets together, and Penny grits her teeth for a moment because she hates admitting when she doesn't know what to do, and Agatha just says, when she forces it out, "Neither do I." She laughs, and then says "Come on. If _I_ can improvise-" and Penny thinks that the Agatha of a few years ago would never have said that, but then the Agatha of a few years ago would never have had Penny's mouth warm and wet and too eager on her shoulders, either.

It's the second or third time that Agatha takes charge, mapping over Penny's skin with her tongue and her mouth and her fingers, and it's only when Penny's trembling, with Agatha's whispers warm and too damn _sure_ between her legs, that she realises, when she looks down, that she can still see those pink-painted nails, pressed against her thighs.

It's one of the last things she thinks coherently, for a while, but it seems oddly appropriate.

* * *

 

"My nail varnish is chipped" Agatha says, when they're walking on the beach a few nights later, the waves cool and quiet in the distance, the same way Agatha squinted disconsolately at a gingerbread girl years ago and said _This one's icing's cracked._

"So, do it again" Penny says now, exactly the way she did then, catching Agatha's hand in between her own to stare at it.

But then, she'd said "You don't have to do it pink again, you know, you can still learn" and rolled her eyes at the look on Agatha's face.

Now, she just says "What colour are you going to do?", an act of supreme sacrifice for Penny with the amount of interest she usually has in nail varnish, and Agatha knows it.

Agatha grins. "Don't you hate them being pink?"

And Penny rolls her eyes, because typical _Agatha_ , to have held onto the one tiny detail years later that Penny was sure she'd safely forgotten.

And now, of course, she has to say she was wrong, which will just make Agatha grin all over again, and Agatha won't even go on about it like most people, except at odd intervals over the years, and Penny doesn't know whether she hates or not that she already knows there are going to be years.

"Look-" she says, because she's not going to apologise for something she said _years_ ago, for goodness' sake, and then Agatha grabs her and kisses her, surprising her with her mouth still opening, and then laughs, her lips pink and glossy and sweet.

"Still pink" Penny says, which she has to admit isn't her best line, but it seems to sum Agatha up right now, and years ago, she'd have meant that in an entirely different way.

Agatha's fingers-the same ones that stopped that horse-wrap around Penny's own. She doesn't say anything, and Penny rolls her eyes, and years ago, she'd have meant that in an entirely different way too.

Now, she lets Agatha tug her along, bare feet sinking into the cool sand, miles away from then, and for once, Penny glances down at Agatha's chipped pink nail varnish, pressed against her own fingers and doesn't say anything. She just smiles, and they run along the beach, each of them tugging the other, pink and blue still glittering together in the moonlight.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it! (My Tumblr is [hallowgirl](http://hallowgirl.tumblr.com/) but it's mainly political fic/lolitics stuff!)


End file.
